


All Things Fade in Time

by AnyaYanko



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Care giving, Caretaking, Gen, M/M, Memory Loss, amneisa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24704761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnyaYanko/pseuds/AnyaYanko
Summary: When the ageing Headmaster starts to lose his memory, his favourite student takes him in. A bittersweet story of love, friendship and family.
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore/Harry Potter
Comments: 50
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posting as I feel bad for taking so long to update my other stories. It’s not really complete, but I kinda lost steam on it so it’s as finished as it’s gonna be.

He told him his decision gently, as if afraid it might upset him. Certainly, it came as quite a shock. It was not at all what Harry had expected when he stepped into the headmaster's office that morning. 

Nothing had changed since he'd last been there and he’d been greeted by a wave of nostalgia. It seemed impossible that all the rich furnishings and tinkling golden instruments could be packed away and that someone else could occupy the chair behind the desk. 

'Are you sure?' He asked foolishly.

Dumbledore smiled a sad, weary smile. 'Yes, Harry. Quite sure. It do not wish to leave but I am too old to continue.' 

‘You’re not that old.’

Dumbledore’s moustache twitched. ‘I am that old, as a matter of fact. One hundred and forty three this year.’

His voice was full of wonder, as though he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

‘You must have seen all the stories in Prophet about me finally losing my grip. They’ve been compaiging to have me removed for years and they’re finally gaining support.’ 

‘That’s ridiculous!’ Harry exploded. ‘You’re the greatest headmaster that this school’s ever had and everyone knows it! You could keep going for another fifty years if you wanted!’

Dumbledore shook his head.

‘No, Harry. They’re right. I am no longer fit to fill this role. I can’t perform as I once did, not even half as well. I have been doing the school a disservice by staying here as long as I have.’ 

Harry was astounded. ‘What do you mean?’

Dumbledore glanced down at his hands; long, knobbly fingers interlaced atop scarlet robes. 

‘The truth is my mind is failing me, Harry,’ he whispered, his mouth twitching into a grimace. ‘No, not my mind, exactly - I still think clearly enough, thank God - but my memory. My memory is almost completely gone.’ 

Harry continued to stare at the professor.

‘I - I don’t understand,’ he stuttered. ‘You remember who you are and what you’re doing, don’t you?’ 

‘Oh yes,’ Dumbledore replied. ‘Most of the time, anyway. It tends to be large chunks of my recent history that goes missing. I’ll wake up and think I’m fifty or sixty years in the past. It’s fortunate that Hogwarts has changed so little in the past hundred years otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to get away with it. I’ve barely managed as it is, picking up clues from what people say and the notes I make each day.’

His expression grew even sadder and he leant forward in his chair.

‘I’ve tried very hard, Harry,’ he said earnestly. ‘I’ve developed all sorts of tricks and tools for coping, but it’s not enough anymore. I can’t possibly manage the school effectively when I can’t remember what’s happening day to day. I don’t even remember who the current teachers are, let alone the students, and I can’t manage a crisis.’ 

Then his lips quirked, just a little. 

'The other day the Minister for Magic burst into my office and started ranting about some sort of secret society at Hogwarts that was causing concern for parents and after about forty minutes I had to say, “I’m so sorry, Minister, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.” He thought I was just playing the fool, as I usually do, and stormed right out again - which, I must admit, was a tremendous relief for me - and I never really got to the bottom of the matter. It might just have been a harmless rumour, but I don’t know that for sure.’ 

Harry felt a lump forming in his throat. He remembered believing, as a child, that Dumbledore knew everything that went on at Hogwarts. He had seemed like a god; utterly omnipotent. How could he suddenly have become so blind and oblivious? 

‘Can’t you - can’t you do some sort of spell to regain your memory?’ 

Dumbledore sighed and shook his head. ’No. I’ve tried, of course, but nothing seems to take. I suspect it might be because the cause itself is magical. You see, when I was very young I was hit by an extremely powerful memory charm and although I eventually managed to break it I suspect it caused permanent damage. Now that I’m older and weaker it’s attacking my memories again, making them come and go each day.’ 

He swallowed hard and Harry could see the great effort he was making to keep talking.   
  
‘I know I really shouldn’t have stayed this long. It wasn’t right to put the school at risk, but ... I was afraid. I know Hogwarts better than anywhere else. It’s been my home for the last hundred and twenty years. If I go somewhere else I know I’ll find it harder to orient myself. I might get lost and confused.’ 

'Couldn't you stay at Hogwarts anyway?' Harry asked. 'No one could object if you stayed in the castle after all the years you've lived and worked here.’ 

Dumbledore's lips tightened. 'No, I couldn't ask that. It wouldn't be right.'

'Why not? You let Professor Trelawny stay here even after she lost her job.' 

'That was different. It was for her own safety and the greater good of the wizarding world. Anyway, there are still plenty of people who would like to see me continue as headmaster and as long as I am living here they’ll refuse to accept anyone new.' 

'You could work together though,' Harry insisted. 'They'd be grateful for your advice.' 

'No, Harry, you're not thinking it through,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I wouldn't even remember I wasn't headmaster. I would have to be reminded every day. It wouldn’t be helpful for anyone.’ 

He drooped down in his chair. 

'And ... I couldn't bear to face that humiliation on a regular basis. If possible, I’d prefer to keep the full extent of my condition secret. I haven't told anyone, apart from you. Not even Minerva, although I'm sure she suspects.'   
  
Harry's heart squeezed. 'What will you do then?' 

Dumbledore sighed. 'I was thinking of buying a small place in Godric's Hollow. If I did, I was wondering ... would you perhaps be able to call me or visit me, once or twice a week? Just to make sure I'm still there and I haven’t got into any mischief.’ 

Harry shook his head, pushed out of his chair.

'No, no you're being so silly! You must come and live with me!' 

He threw his arms around the old man's neck and hugged him. 

'There's plenty of room now the boys have grown up and moved out. I would be glad to have someone there, to keep me company. We'll have a wonderful time together.' 

Dumbledore remained rigid for a moment and then sunk bonelessly into the embrace. He was surprisingly and alarmingly light. Hollow and delicate, like a baby bird. 

'I must admit that the thought occured to me,' he whispered. 'but I didn't want to ask it of you. I know it would be a terrible ... inconvenience. ' 

'Don't be ridiculous,' Harry choked out.   
  
He drew away so that he could look the old man in the eyes and gave him a tender smile. 

'We're family.' 


	2. Chapter 2

Dumbledore spent several days working with Harry to extend and remodel his house. Dumbledore insisted on recreating the rooms he held at Hogwarts exactly so that he wouldn't be alarmed waking up somewhere new and unknown.

'I know it must seem a little ... drastic,' Dumbledore said sheepishly, as he added the finishing touches to his office, 'but I need to try and fool myself, and I am not an easy man to fool.'

'Clearly,' Harry said wryly. 'I must admit it looks rather strange to have a massive tower jutting out the side of my two story house, but I expect I'll get used to it in time.' 

They tried to work out all the logistics ahead of time so when Dumbledore finally moved everything was already in place for him.

'The trouble is, I keep worrying I've forgotten something!' Dumbledore said, making Harry laugh.

'I've asked Kreacher to wake you every morning,' he reminded him. 'He'll tell you where you are and make sure you know where everything is. Then, after I've gone off to work, you can go to your office and read through your journals.' 

'Does Kreacher know where my journals will be?' Dumbledore asked nervously. 'And my papers, my notes and my most precious and dangerous spellbooks?’

'Yes,' Harry confirmed, 'although I don't. You told Kreacher the location of everything before swearing him to secrecy. He's bound by his code as a house elf as well as by a secret-keeping spell. You were very particular about that.' 

Dumbledore smiled guiltily. 'I'm so sorry about that. You must appreciate that there are stil many areas of my life that I wish to keep private, even if I am no longer able to protect them myself.' 

'Of course,' Harry said, grinning. 'I understand completely. After all, you have already explained your reasoning several times now. I'd have to be a fool not to understand.' 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry listened out for the professor's footsteps in the morning as his house elf bustled about the kitchen preparing breakfast. As always, there was a slight pause as Dumbledore shuffled into the corridor where the family photographs were displayed.

Harry smiled to himself, imagining the old man examining the pictures as he accepted two thick rashes of bacon from Kreacher's pan. 

Dumbledore finally appeared a few minutes later wearing a bright purple dressing gown and a shy, bemused expression. 

'I take it from Kreacher that I am currently a guest in your home.'

Harry laughed. 'I will have to ask him to be more clear in future. You do live here now. I wouldn't call you a guest.' 

Dumbledore's brow creased for a just a moment, then he smiled wide. 

'Still, it is very kind of you to let me stay. 'It must be a real trial for you.' 

'Not at all, Professor,' Harry insisted 'Please, take a seat and have some eggs. Kreacher made them just the way you like them and he's brought in The Prophet and The Quibbler for you, along with the latest edition of The Alchemist's Oracle and Novelty Knitwear. We have a subscription.' 

They settled down into their usual, easy conversation as they each flicked through their respective papers. Harry made Dumbledore laugh several times with his comments about the Ministry, and his eyes began to sparkle like two jewels.

'I take it you currently have a position in the department,' Dumbledore remarked. 'Only someone with first hand experience could have such a keen insight into their incompetence.' 

'That's right,' Harry confirmed. 'I started out at Magical Law Enforcement as soon as I was out of school. It was you who suggested it, of course, and wrote my references.' 

He bit into a slice of toast, savouring the rich taste of butter and home-made marmalade. 

'I was an Auror at first but after my children were born I took a desk job. Right now, I'm heading up investigations into a smuggling scheme for forbidden potions ingredients. It's an awful business, considering what some wizards are looking to purchase, but I feel like we're finally making some headway.' 

Dumbledore smiled and him and then looked away, a shadow falling over his face.

'I'm so sorry,' he murmured, 'but you know my memory is not as it should be. I feel awful for having to ask - ' 

'It's alright,' Harry said hurridly. 'You can ask me anything. I really don't mind. I'm used to it.' 

Indeed, he had become quite accustomed to answering Dimbledore's questions each and every morning. The only thing that bothered him was how upset the professor got about it. Having to ask where the forks were kept or who the current Minister of Magic was obviously embarrassed him.

'You are very kind,' Dumbledore murmured. 'That's why I feel so terrible, not knowing. Could you perhaps just tell me your name?' 

Harry's mouth fell open and the peice of toast he was holding slid from his hand. It landed sticky-side down, of course, leaving a nasty mess on the floor. Kreacher rushed forward to clean it up and Harry waved him away frantically.

You don't know me?!’

Dumbledore shook his head. 'No,' he confessed. 'I am afraid I have no idea who you are.' 

Harry felt a wave of dispair wash over him. 

'Harry,’ he said. ‘It’s Harry. Harry Potter.' 

'Harry,' Dumbledore repeated. 'Thank you, Harry. It is such a relief to know. I am very glad to meet you.' 

Harry tried to smile back at him, to force himself to resume their casual conversation, but he could feel his face crumpling in on itself. 

Dumbledore looked stricken. 'Oh, I'm so sorry. Please, I didn't mean to upset or offend you.' 

He got up from his seat and took a couple of steps towards Harry. 

'You're not - I mean, I don't think it's possible - but, you're not my son or my grandson, or something like that are you?' 

Harry let out a hollow little laugh. 'Almost,' he breathed. 'I'm an orphan and you - you always looked out for me, at school.' 

'Oh, I'm so, so sorry, Harry.' 

Dumbledore made up his mind and knelt down to hug him. 

'I can tell you're my boy,' he whispered. 'I can feel just how much I loved you, even if I don’t remember it right now.' 

Harry wished he could believe that but he'd seen the blankness in the old man's eyes. He blinked rapidly to stave back tears and then pushed Dumbledore away.

'Im just being stupid,' he gasped. 'I know you forget decades at a time and we only met each other in the last fifty years.'

He was suddenly aware of just how little he had figured in Dumbledore's life. 

'You've always known me though,' Dumbledore commented perceptively.

'Yes,' Harry agreed. He took a deep breath. ‘I'm sorry, I have to get to work. Kreacher will take care of you while I'm away. Just ask him for anything you need. We'll talk more when I get back.' 

He forced himself to stare straight ahead as he floo'd away, knowing his heart would break if he dared to look back, even for a second. The soft green flames licked at his face, drying his tears, making him ready to face the world. 

**

As soon as Harry was gone Albus turned to the house elf. 

'Kreacher, I need you to do something for me. Something very, very important.' 

Kreacher bowed down so low that his small brown head almost brushed against the kitchen tiles. 

'Of course, Kreacher has been commanded to serve Professor Dumbledore as he would his own master. How can Kreacher be of service?' 

'When you come and wake me in the morning please can you remind me who your master is. You must tell me his name and how I know him and what he does for a living.' 

Dumbledore's lips quivered a little, underneath his moustache. 

'What happened today must never, ever happen again. You must tell me how very important Harry is to me. That we are like family.' 

The house elf bowed low again. 'Certainly, Professor, Kreacher will do exactly as you ask.' 


	4. Chapter 4

It was a terrible shock when Albus slipped out of his room in the middle of the night and found himself in an unfamiliar hallway. He was used to Hogwarts altering itself regularly, transforming it's corridors with the changing of the seasons or the waxing and waning of the moon, but this was nothing like those subtle, dependable alterations. 

The corridor he found himself in did not belong in a castle. It's walls were smooth and even, papered with an elegant floral pattern. It was someone's home; a private, domestic dwelling that had somehow become attached to his rooms. 

But, no, that was impossible. No one could create such an easy portal into Hogwarts. If they had a vanishing cabinet perhaps, it might be possible to travel seamlessly between the two locations, but they couldn't install such enchantment in an ordinary bedroom door.

An illusion then? Yes, it was all an illusion set up to decisive him, but for what purpose? 

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden sound - a door creaking open, somewhere to his left. Albus wheeled around, one hand on his wand, and squinted through the darkness.   
Recognition leapt up inside him when he observed the tall, dark-haired young man with round spectacles. 

'James?' He breathed softly. 'What's going on? Where are we?' 

The man halted and tilted his head to one side.

'It's not James,' he said. 'It's Harry.' 

'Harry?' 

Albus lit his wand and stepped forward. When the light touched the other man's face, he saw that his nose was a little smaller and straighter than James's and his eyes were bright green - just like Lily's.'

'Oh, Harry!' Dumbledore exclaimed. 'How wonderful!' 

He took another step, closing the distance between them.

'There's something wrong with my memory. I must have lost ... thirty years, forty years? Look at you, though. All grown up! And ... Lord Voldemort?' 

'He's gone,' Harry told him. ‘He's been dead for years now and he's never coming back.' 

'Oh, how wonderful!' Albus exclaimed again. 'I don't know if your parents ever told you about the danger you were in as a baby. It's such a great relief to know that's all over and done with.'

Harry continued to smile at him, although Albus detected the slightest strain at the corners of his mouth. 

'And ... your parents?' He asked nervously. 'Are they - were they - ' 

'They didn't make it,' Harry said. 'They died when I was still a baby. I'm afraid I never knew them.' 

Albus's heart sank. 'Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry. I worked so hard to protect them. I don't know what went wrong.' 

'It's okay,' Harry said. 'It wasn't your fault. They were betrayed by someone else.'

'Why can't I remember any of this?' Albus asked. 'It's like the last few decades have been swept clean away. Have I been hit by a memory charm?' 

'I'm not sure if it was a curse or a charm,' Harry replied delicately, 'but your memory had been permanently damaged. It comes and goes, each day. Sometimes you only lose a few years, sometimes decades at a time.' 

He reached out and took Albus's hand. 'It's alright though,' he assured him. 'You live with me now, in Godric's Hollow, and we look out for each other.' 

He pulled gently, leading him towards the far door. 

'Come on, let's have something warm to drink and a little chat. I can answer any questions you have, although, with a little luck, your memories may return in the morning ... '


	5. Chapter 5

Birds sang out for the fresh new morning. A pretty, discordant sound just above the house. 

Albus listened carefully as the House-elf explained the situation. It was difficult to believe that he could have forgotten so much, especially when his remaining memories were so clear, but when he looked closely around the room he noticed that a few things that were out of place, not quite as he remembered them. 

'So, this isn't really Hogwarts?' 

'No, Professor. This is Elm House, Godric's Hollow. Master Harry had your room decorated to your specifications so that you wouldn't be too alarmed when you woke up. When you're ready, come through to the kitchen, which is just down the hall. Breakfast will be served and the I will show you to your office.' 

Albus thanked the elf, who promptly dissaparated with a loud crack and then went about the business of getting washed and dressed. It was very alarming to do so in the knowledge that the fine, marble bathroom and oak panneled dressing room were merely replicas of the ones he was used to.

 _What have I become,_ he thought ruefully, as he pulled on his robes. _A feeble old man, incapable of taking care of himself, forced to throw himself on the mercy of his former students._

Still, at least it was Harry who had taken pity on him. The kind and earnest young boy he remembered from his first few years at Hogwarts. In Albus's mind he was still thirteen years old, soft and vulnerable and constantly in danger, but now he was a grown man, fully recovered from the horrors of his youth.

That was also a relief. Nothing pleased him more than the knowledge that Harry had survived his final confrontation with Voldemort and carved out a life for himself. 

As he made his way though the hallway a wall of family photographs caught his attention. He recognised Harry at once - so like his father - along with Ginny Weasley and two dark-haired little boys. 

His heart leapt with delight. Harry had children! A happy, loving family, at last. It was all he could have hoped for.

After a while though the noticed that Ginny dissaparated from the group photographs as the boys grew older. She was not present for their graduation pictures or the eldest boy's wedding. 

Albus understood what this meant, she would not have missed out on these events by choice. She was dead and the family had been reduced to three. 

His spirits were lowered slightly by this revelation but they picked up again when he saw Harry in the flesh, grinning wide, over the top of his paper. 

'Hello, Albus,' he greeted him cheerfully. 'Know me today, do you?' 

'Surely, I could never forget you?' Albus replied, unsure if he was being teased. How awful if he had forgotten the boy he had watched over so carefully. 'Such a cheeky, little trouble-maker.' 

Harry raised his eyebrows. 'You're confusing me with my father. I was always a good student.' 

'No, Harry,' Albus contradicted. 'I recall you getting into quite a few scrapes during your time at Hogwarts.' 

'I was a victim of circumstance. Things just happened to me, you know? But my life's settled down quite nicely in the past few years. I'm very dull and ordinary.'

He grinned again and gestured to the chair opposite him.

'Please, sit down, and we can have a little catch-up. There's plenty to talk about.' 


	6. Chapter 6

Harry enjoyed his evenings with Dumbledore best, after the old man had had opportunity to refresh his memory. They were able to talk properly about things that had happened in their lives, or just sit comfortably in silence, listening to the wireless together. 

Sometimes Dumbledore would work on knitting or embroidery patterns, which amused Harry greatly, especially as the old man worked on the peices by hand with no magic whatsoever. 

'I just like to keep my hands busy,' Dumbledore said mildly. 'And these days, it's satisfying to work on something tangible that grows over time. Otherwise my life can feel rather aimless, with each day slipping away into oblivion with nothing to show for it.' 

'Well, I understand wanting to do something productive,' Harry commented. 'You've always been something of a workaholic. Retirement doesn't really suit you.' 

He thought of Dumbledore sitting up late in his office, writing letters to the ministry, the school board and the wizengamot, and his heart squeezed in his chest. The old man had given up so much and Harry was sure that he missed it all

'It has its benefits,' Dumbledore said. 'I have a good time each day, relaxing around the house. If only it didn't all get washed away afterwards. I would like something to hold on to.'

Harry nodded sympathetically. 'You have your journals though, don't you?' 

'Yes, but I can't record everything. I spend most of the day reading as it is, revising my own life so I can start living it when you come home.' 

Harry knew this. Albus had explained it all several times before and, even if he hadn't, he would have worked it out by the way the old man spoke to him.

'Is there ... anything else I can do?' 

Harry had asked this before but it didn't hurt to repeat himself. Dumbledore's response often varied and he was always coming up with new ideas. 

'You've already done enough,' Dumbledore assured him; his usual reply. 


	7. Chapter 7

Albus was having a good day, easily recalling the events of the last decade, which was a rare occurrence. In order to appreciate it to its fullest he accompanied Harry to the Ministry, caught up with some old friends and went out to lunch.   
  
Harry obviously appreciated his company, chatting with him about his work for most of the afternoon, but as the light started to fade he grew more and more pensive.

'There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about,' He told Albus. 'Ive been waiting for an opportunity when your memory's at its best.'

Albus smiled and raised his eyebrows. 'You sound so serious. Am I about to get a telling off?' 

Harry's lips quirked. ‘Sort of. It’s just ... the nights.’

‘The nights?’ Albus repeated. 

‘Yes.’ Harry grimaced. ‘You have a bit of a habit of waking up in the middle of the night and apparating away. I think you go back to Hogwarts, although you’ve never said so. I imagine it must be quite embarrassing if you’re apparating back into your old office or bedroom and finding someone else there.’ 

‘Yes,’ Albus agreed, mouth dry. ‘Quite.’ 

‘It’s not that big a deal,’ Harry insisted. ‘It’s just ... I’m worried that one day you’ll stay out all night and won’t remember how to get back.’ 

‘I see.‘

‘I know this can’t be easy to hear but I think, given the circumstances, you should move out of your bedroom and come and stay with me, instead.’ 

Albus stared at him. ‘You mean, in your room?’ 

Harry nodded. 

‘In your bed?’ 

Harry was taken aback. ‘I had thought ... but, no, perhaps that would be best. Easiest, anyway. If you wouldn’t mind?’ 

‘That is ... very kind of you, but I wouldn’t want to intrude. Besides, I believe it‘s better for me to wake in a familiar place. Surely I’m less likely to wander off if I do?’

‘Maybe,’ Harry said doubtfully. ‘It’s just ... it’s happening more and more now. I think you’re able to tell that it’s not really your room, even late in the night.’ 

Albus looked down at his hands, toyed with a large ring he didn’t recognise.

‘Perhaps it’s an unevenness in the bricks or the positioning in the window. Maybe I just need to recreate more of the stairs or the corridor? I’m sure I can solve the problem.’ 

Harry’s expression did not change. ‘You have tried before.’ 

‘Ah,’ Albus spun the ring back around. ‘This is not the first time we’ve had this conversation.’ 

‘No,’ Harry admitted. ‘Perhaps you find the prospect daunting, but I am sure it would be better if you were in bed with me. Then I would know as soon as you woke up and be able to talk to you and explain everything.’ 

Albus fidgeted in his seat.

‘It’s not that I’m completely opposed to the idea,’ he began quietly. ‘I can see the sense in it. I just worry about taking over so much of your life. You might want to share your bed with someone else.’ 

To his surprise, Harry laughed out loud, as if this was an absurd suggestion.

‘No,’ he declared. ‘I don’t think that’s likely. I wouldn’t worry yourself on that account. I don’t mind sharing with you.’ 

Albus wasn’t sure he believed him but he could see that Harry had given this some thought. If this was what he wanted, then Albus had no right to argue with him. 

’If that’s what you think is best, then of course I will move in with you. Whatever makes things easiest.’ 


	8. Chapter 8

Albus knew that something was wrong as soon as he opened his eyes. He could not see much of the room by the pale moonlight but he could tell that it was laid out quite differently to his own.

He was alarmed, wondering how he could have managed to end up in a strange room without his knowledge. Had he been dosed with a sleeping draught and kidnapped from his bed? If so, who on earth would do such a thing? 

His second shock came when he realised that he was not alone and that there was a strange man lying beside him. He recoiled, blinking rapidly until his eyes adjusted in the darkness. 

The stranger, he realised, was quite young and beautiful, with thick black hair and finely sculpted features. There was a strange mark on his forehead, slanted at angle; a jagged scar that somehow made him all the more handsome. 

Albus's heart thudded in his chest, a queer mixture of fear and excitement surging through him. A grown man was in bed beside him, breathing softly and shuffling his legs beneath the sheets. A beautiful man with tousled curls and tender, lilting lips. 

He deliberated for a few minutes then reached out to touch the stranger's face, caressing the stubble that grew along his jaw. His own hand caught the light as he did so and he saw that his skin was pale and wrinkled. 

_'I'm an old man,'_ he realised. _'Even older than him.'_

Something was missing from his mind, years and years of memories at least. How had he lost them? Was it some sort of memory charm or a curse? When had it happened?

As he lay there pondering these questions the handsome young man stirred again and reached out to sleepily return his caresses. Albus froze as the stranger ran his hand up and down his shoulder, hardly daring to breathe.

The man opened his eyes, revealing a set of emerald green eyes, and gazed hazily at Albus. There was no surprise or alarm in those eyes. Apparently, he had expected to see him there. Apparently, the two of them regularly shared a bed. 

'Are you alright?' The stranger murmured, his voice low and husky. 

Albus swallowed, searching for his voice. 'I ...don't know.' 

'Do you know where you are?' The stranger asked. 'Do you remember who I am?' 

Albus hesitated and then replied in a whisper. 'No, I don't know anything.' 

This confession also made no impact upon the stranger. He had been expecting this as well. When he spoke again it was in the weary, singsong manner of someone reciting something they had said many times before. 

'You're home in Godric's Hollow. You came to live with me here after you started to lose your memory. It comes and goes with each day, and it may come back to you when you wake again. It's always worse at night. My name's Harry Potter, by the way. You call me Harry.' 

Albus struggled to process all the information, but the only thing that really interested him was the identity of his bedfellow. He recognised the name Potter, of course, it belonged to a very old, pureblood family, but he was none the wiser as to who Harry really was.

'Are you ... my boyfriend?' He asked hopefully.

Harry laughed. No, we’re just friends.' He paused for a moment, before elaborating. 'I was one of your favourite students before I graduated.' 

Albus worked to hide his disappointment. 

'One of my students?'

'Yeah, from Hogwarts.' He frowned. 'You do remember Hogwarts, don't you?' 

'I remember going there,' Albus said.

Harry was taken aback. 'You also taught there,' he told him. 'Tranfiguration. You were headmaster too, by the time I got there. You were headmaster for over ninety years.' 

_Ninety years!_ Albus recalled the lines decorating his hands. He must be very, very old indeed.

'You've never forgotten that much before,' Harry murmured. 'I don't think so, anyway. How old do you think you are?'

'I'm not a child,' Albus said defensively. 

'No,' Harry smirked. 'I can see that. How old, though? What was the last birthday you remember?'

Albus licked his lips. 'Fourteen.'

'Fourteen?! Jesus Christ!’ 

Harry reached out to touch him again, stroking at his face and sending a thrill through Albus's body.

'You must be so confused.'

Albus did not respond. It occured to him that Harry must be half-blood or muggle-born for him to curse like that. He lay still as Harry wriggled closer, allowing him to cuddle up to him.

'Who's looking after Arianna?' 

Harry's fingers stilled at the nape of his neck. 

'Oh, Albus, I'm so sorry. She's gone. She died many years ago, in an accident.' 

Albus's heart sank. 'What about Aberforth?' 

‘He’s gone too. Died few years back. They're all gone now. I'm sorry.' 

Albus’s closed his eyes in despair. He had assumed his parents would be dead by now, if he was over a century old, but he had assumed that at least one of his siblings would have survived. 

It was awful to know that Arianna had died so long ago. He had obviously failed to protect her like he was supposed to. 

’Thank you for telling me,' he whispered. 'It would have been easier to lie.'

Harry curled up tighter around him. 

'Go back to sleep,' He cooed. 'You'll feel better in the morning. Your memory sometimes comes back. If it doesn't, we'll talk more then.'

Albus dared to press his face into the man’s throat, breathing in his scent. 

'You're sure we're not lovers?' 

Harry laughed again and when he spoke his tone was light and affectionate, almost flirtatious. He was flattered rather than offended or horror-struck, as Albus would have expected him to be. 

'We're close,' he told him. 'Companions. That's all, though. That's enough.'

Albus turned this over in his mind. ’We share a bed though ...?'

'Yes,' Harry replied. 'I like to keep you in here with me so you don't wander off and get into mischief. You're awfully good at that.' 

Albus smiled, let his eyes fall shut. 'Yes, I can imagine.' 

Harry hand stroked at his hair. ‘Hush now, little boy. Let’s go back to sleep.’ 


	9. Chapter 9

Albus hoped that when he woke he would find that the last night’s events were just a dream but when he opened his eyes he was still in that strange bedroom with a strange man sleeping beside him. 

He lay still until the stranger got up, then sat up gingerly, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around then. 

‘Harry?’ He whispered uncertainly, recalling the name he’d been told.

The dark haired man turned to look at him, a playful smile playing on his lips.

‘Yes?’

Albus looked down at his gnarled hands and feet and sighed. 

‘I still don’t remember anything.’ 

Harry frowned. ‘You mean, apart from last night?’ 

Albus nodded gravely. 

Harry stopped what he was doing and crept back onto the bed.

‘You still feel like you’re a teenager?’ 

Albus nodded again. ‘I don’t remember being grown up at all.’ 

Harry let out a deep sigh. ‘Of all the days,’ he muttered, under his breath. ‘Well, nothing we can do about that now. We’ll just do what we usually do. First, we get washed and dressed and go down for breakfast. Then I introduce you to to my house-elf, Kreacher.’

Gently - _very gently_ \- he took Albus by the arms and pulled him up. 

‘The bathroom’s just over here. We usually take turns to shower but I can run you a bath if you like?’ 

‘I can do it myself,’ Albus protested. ‘If you just show me where - ‘ 

But then caught sight of himself in the mirror and stopped dead in his tracks.

‘Is that me?’ He gasped, tugging his hands free and raising them up to his face. As he did so, the pale old man in the gold frame did the same, confirming that he was indeed Albus’s reflection.

‘Why on earth did I grow this horrible beard?!’

‘I thought you liked it.’ Harry said, sounding amused. 

’Well, I don’t now,’ Albus grumbled. ‘Where’s my wand? Oh for the love of - Could you get rid of it for me, please?!’

Harry looked uncertain. ‘What if you miss it tomorrow?’ 

‘Then I can just grow it back. It doesn’t need to be gone forever.’ 

Oh ... alright.’ 

Harry disappeared into the bathroom for a moment and then reappeared with scissors, shaving cream and a straight razor.

Albus was surprised. ‘Can’t you do it with magic? You’re a wizard, aren’t you?’ 

Harry blushed. ‘Yes, I’ve just never been that good at those sort of spells. It’s safer if I do it this way, trust me.’

He snipped off the long tail of Albus’s white beard and then shaved the skin smooth. 

‘What do you think?’

Albus was still just as pale and wrinkled, only now his scrawny chin was exposed. He wasn’t sure it was much of an improvement. 

‘I still look so old,’ he sighed. ‘Couldn’t we do something about my face?’

Harry frowned. ‘You mean, like, smooth it out?’

Albus nodded. 

‘I suppose we could brew up a basic de-aging potion. It’s not my forte but I expect I could manage a very simple one.’

‘Oh I can do that,’ Albus said impatiently. ‘Honestly, they’re not that hard. I just need a really, really strong one. Can I have my wand please?’ 

Harry went over to a cupboard and retrieved a long, dark stick of wood. He held it out to Albus but Albus made no move to take it. 

‘That’s not mine,’ he told him. ‘It’s elder.’ 

Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘It’s been yours as long as I’ve known you.’ 

‘Oh. I - I must have changed it.’ Albus quickly took the wand and turned it round in his hand. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry for being so tiresome.’ 

Harry laughed. ‘It’s no trouble it’s just ... you’re still surprising me.’ He gave Albus a curious look. ‘I’d like to hear the story of how you lost your first wand.’ 

‘I probably just broke it somehow,’ Albus said airily. ‘I have been known to experiment. In any case, you’re not going to get the story today.’ He chuckled. ‘You’ll have to wait for it.’ 

Harry accepted this with a placid smile. 

Once he was safely in the bathroom Albus examined the wand more closely, wondering whether it really could be what he thought it was. Had he finally achieved the thing he had wanted ever since he was a child. Was he a master of death?

Suddenly Arianna’s face flashed through his head. Dead, Harry had told him. Aberforth, too. Had they paid the price of his ambition? The two threads seemed irrevocably tangled in his mind. It must have been his fault somehow. 

He drooped, sadly, then shook his head. Whatever had happened, it was all over and done with now. Harry probably didn’t know anything about it, despite their apparent closeness. It would be best to put it out of his thoughts. Into the dark pit of his forgotten memories. 


	10. Chapter 10

An hour later Albus was sat in Harry’s cosy little kitchen, admiring his new face in a hand mirror. He didn’t look much like the boy he remembered but his skin was now clean and firm. He might have passed for a twenty-year-old if it weren’t for his silvery hair. 

‘Don’t you look lovely!’ Harry declared in the over-enthusiastic voice of a parent trying to convince their child. ‘Like a fairy prince from a storybook.’ 

He ran his fingers through Albus’s spider-silk hair, combing and separating it out into different sections. 

‘Would you like me to braid it for you? I’m sure we can get it looking really nice.’ 

Albus agreed and allowed Harry to plait his hair and pin it back.

‘This is how I do it for my granddaughters,’ Harry told him. ‘Genevieve and Isabelle.’ He hesitated. ‘They’re supposed to be coming round today, actually.’ 

‘Oh, that’s lovely,’ Albus said quickly. ‘I’d love to meet them.’

‘You’ve met them before, actually. Many times.’ 

‘Ah,’ Albus fidgeted. ‘Of course.’ 

‘You’re their godfather.’

Albus let out a little laugh. ‘Of course, I should’ve known. What do they call me?’ 

‘Great Uncle Albus.’ Harry grimaced. ‘I expect that’ll be pretty weird for you. I could cancel - if you prefer? You don’t need to meet them today.’ 

‘No, no!’ Albus protested, shocked that Harry would even suggest such a thing. ‘You can’t cancel plans with your family just for me.’ 

‘Well, you’re my family too,’ Harry told him, but he looked relieved. ‘It won’t be too awkward,’ he promised him. ‘They know about your memory lapses. The boys do, too. No one will expect you to remember anything recent.’ 

‘They will expect me to know who I am.’ Albus sighed. ‘I will do my best, Harry. I promise you.’ 

‘I know.’ Harry smiled. ‘You’re so good, Albus. Always.’ 

He tied a ribbon in his hair. Sky blue, like his robes. Bright, spring colours. 

‘It’s Easter today,’ he told him. 

‘I know,’ Albus replied. ‘I saw the calendar. In the hallway.’ It was decorated with pictures of wildflowers and one large white rabbit. 

‘Observant, as always.’ Harry smiled. ‘Would you perhaps help me make the eggs? Chocolate ones, I mean. I always do special ones for the girls and hide them around the garden. They’re getting a bit old for it now - twelve and fourteen - but I know they appreciate the tradition.’ 

‘Happy to,’ Albus said, brandishing his wand. ‘Let me just clean out this cauldron and we’ll get started.’ 

**

The girls were rather delighted to find Albus young and pretty with ribbons and flowers in his hair. Albus had exuberantly decorated himself, along with the house, so that everything was bursting with life and colour. 

‘How fun!’ Genevieve exclaimed, tossing her own long plaits. ‘We match!’ 

They hunted for Easter eggs, ate a large sumptuous lunch, and played board games in the living room. Albus got along very well with the girls, although they reminded him - painfully - of Arianna. He knew just how to please and entertain them. 

Harry chatted with his grown-up sons as the “children” played, gathering in the kitchen with butterbeers, and the living room with brandy. Albus listened with one ear to their conversation and learned that James, the eldest, worked at Gringotts, while Nathan was a writer. They were quite different from each other, yet both reminded him of Harry in their own way. It was interesting to see them all together.

‘Will you stay young like this forever, Great Uncle Albus?’ Isabelle asked. ‘It’s far more fun.’ 

‘I don’t think so,’ Albus said. ‘It’s a lot of trouble to go to every day. But let’s see how I feel tomorrow. I daresay I’ll be a different man then.’ He winked meaningfully, making her laugh. Genevieve, however, looked mournful. 

‘You’re going to forget all this tomorrow, aren’t you?’ 

‘Probably,’ Albus confessed. ‘I shall write it about it my journals though and that will allow me to relive it whenever I want. I’m sure I already have volumes about you two, lots and lots of precious memories I want to keep safe.’ 

Genevieve nodded, though she did not look convinced. 

‘Grandad says you keep trying to run away,’ Isabelle said.

‘Do I?’ 

Isabelle nodded. ‘No one knows where you go.’ 

‘I am a very strange man; mysterious even to myself.’

Once the sun began to set, orange in the sky, they gathered to say their goodbyes. The two willowy girls hugged Albus, while the young men smiled and nodded at him. 

‘Hope to see you soon, Albus,’ James said, a little woodenly. 

‘You too,’ Albus replied. ‘It will lovely to meet you, all over again.’ 

‘The boys find this a lot harder than the girls,’ Harry explained, once they were gone. ‘You were so close when they were younger. They can’t cope with the fact you can’t remember any of that.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ Albus said. ‘Was I insensitive? I should’ve perhaps taken more time to talk to them. I just felt like they didn’t want me to.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Harry assured him. ‘It’s just difficult for them, that’s all. I think they find it easier to act like strangers than try and rebuild a relationship.’ 

It was very sad to think that he’d lost such an important connection. If what Harry was telling him was true, he had been like a grandfather to James and Nathan, and those early experiences could never be replaced. 

‘Would you like any help cleaning up?’ 

‘Yes please.’ 

**

When it grew late, Harry came to him and wrapped his arms around him. 

‘Time for bed now, my littlest boy!’ 

Albus laughed at this. He was still a head taller than Harry, though his mind was young and fresh. However, he allowed himself to be bundled upstairs like a child enjoying all the fuss and pantomime. Harry smelt of sweat and cinnamon, a strangely pleasant combination. 

Harry sat Albus down on the bed and blushed out his braids. Then he gave him another warm hug and a brief, chaste kiss on the cheek. 

‘You go ahead and get changed in here,’ he urged him. ‘I’ll change in the bathroom. Then, when I’m done you can go brush your teeth.’ 

Once they were all clean and comfortable, in cotton nightdresses and plaid pyjamas, Harry tucked up Albus into the bed beside him and put out the lights. Albus curled his fingers in Harry’s hair and lay awake for a long time. 

‘You’ve been so sweet to me,’ Albus whispered. 

‘’S’no problem,’ Harry mumbled sleepily. 

‘I ... love you,’ Albus said tentatively, trying out the words. 

‘Love you, too,’ Harry replied easily. 

Albus snuggled closer and closed his eyes.

‘How did we meet, Harry?’ 

‘When I was a baby, I s’pose. You knew my parents and you came and got me, after they died.’ 

‘Well since neither of us can remember I think we can discount it. When was the first time after that?’ 

Harry yawned loudly. 

‘When I was eleven. On my first day of school. Although, I don’t know whether I’d call it “meeting.” You smiled at me as I came in with the rest of the first years. You knew who I was, of course.’ 

‘I don’t know whether that should count either,’ Albus said. ‘Dear me, it’s a wonder we ever became so close. When did we have our first conversation?’ 

Harry groaned. ‘You’re not going to make me go over everything now, are you? Read your journals.’ 

‘It’s too late for that,’ Albus murmured. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I suppose I must ask this all the time?’ 

Harry sighed. ‘No, not really. I’m sorry. You must be curious.’ He fidgeted under the blankets. ‘I guess the first time we spoke was when I found the Mirror of Erised, and you warned me not to get too obsessed with it.’ 

Harry related the details of the encounter as best he could. Time had weathered away the finer details and he apologised for not recalling the exact words of their exchange. 

‘That’s the gist, though,’ he finished. 

Albus tried to picture the scene. The old man sat cross-legged on the floor, talking earnestly with a little dark-haired boy, imparting solemn advice. Yes, he could see himself in that conversation. That was him, despite all the distance of time. 

‘You think I was lying about what I saw?’ He asked, for Harry had confided his own suspicions. 

‘Perhaps,’ Harry said. ‘You never told me, though. There’s lots of secrets you keep to yourself. I mean, that’s fair. You were - you _are_ so much older than me and you’ve lived through so much.’ 

Albus considered. ‘What do you think I really saw inside the mirror?’

‘I don’t know,’ Harry said. ‘Honestly, I’ve never been able to guess.’ 

Albus thought of the elder wand he now possessed, the resurrection stone, and the fabled invisibility cloak. 

‘Power, perhaps,’ he whispered. 

‘Power?’ Harry repeated, surprised. 

‘I’ve always wanted - at least, when I was fourteen - to become someone really great and powerful.’ 

‘You were really great,’ Harry told him. ‘Everyone always said you were the best Headmaster that Hogwarts ever had.’ 

‘Not like that,’ Albus said quickly. ‘I never wanted to be a teacher. I’m sure I was a good one and I must have enjoyed it, but I used to be very ambitious. Perhaps ... that was my downfall, though,’ he mused darkly. ‘Ambition can be dangerous.’ 

‘Perhaps,’ Harry agreed, sounding uncomfortable. ‘You’ve never spoken about it.’

‘Are you worried I’ll be angry if I find out what I’ve been telling you?’ Albus chuckled. ‘I won’t be, I’m sure of that. I know I can trust you. I should have trusted you sooner.’

Harry twined his fingers at the small of Albus’s back and kissed him again, on the forehead. 

‘You do trust me. With your life. That’s why you’re here, with me now.’ 


	11. Chapter 11

Winter coated the house in snow and icicles, freezing the water in the pipes and making the windows rattle and cackle. It was a brutal, brittle season, only redeemed by the comfort of large fires, hot chocolate, and festive jumpers. 

Harry woke, one frosty morning, and found that the fire had already been lit. Dumbledore was sat up in bed, staring down at him with a curious expression. 

‘Hello beautiful stranger,’ he said. ‘Would you mind telling me what you’re doing in my bed? Or, perhaps, what I’m doing in yours? I haven’t the faintest idea what I’m doing here.’ 

Harry laughed. ‘You have a problem with your memory. I invited you to come live with me to help you manage it.’

‘That’s kind of you,’ Dumbledore said, eyes glinting. ‘Then this is your home? Your bed?’ 

‘That’s right.’ 

‘It’s a very nice home,’ Dumbledore said moving closer. ‘A very nice bed. I think I must be very lucky to share both with you.’ 

He ran a hand through Harry’s hair and stroked at his cheek. 

‘You’re terribly handsome.’ 

‘Thank you,’ Harry said, tittering. ‘We’re not like that, though. Not lovers or anything.’ 

Dumbledore let out a great sigh. ‘I was afraid you were going to say that.’ His eyes flicked down himself. ‘I appear to be very old. At least seventy years older than you.’ 

‘A hundred,’ Harry corrected. ‘Exactly.’ 

‘What a shame,’ Dumbledore said. ‘Too old for you, then?’ 

‘It’s not that,’ Harry protested. ‘It’s just you’ve always been like a father to me.’

‘Or a grandfather,’ Dumbledore said dully. ‘I suppose I’ve known you since you were a child? Were you one of my students?’

‘Yes. You remember being a teacher, then?’ 

‘Oh, yes. Shouldn’t I?’ 

‘Sometimes you don’t.’ He gave his usual explanation of Albus’s condition. ‘I thought you must be a teenager. You’re not usually so forward.’

‘Was I being terribly forward?’ Dumbledore asked, quirking an eyebrow. ‘Might I remind you that you’re the one who brought me into your bed? A vulnerable old man with amnesia.’

Harry laughed. ‘You’re not acting like you at all!’ He said. ‘Although, you’ve always been silly. How old do you think you are, then?’ 

‘The last birthday I remember was my Sixty-first,’ 

‘Oh!’ Harry laughed out-loud. ‘We’re the same age! That’s never happened before.’ 

‘You wear it a lot better than I do.’

Harry laughed. ‘True.’ 

He went through his usual routine, showing Dumbledore to the bathroom and sitting down to breakfast. Dumbledore came down humming, apparently in a very good mood. 

‘It’s the sixteenth,’ he declared happily. ‘The White Witch Carnival starts today.’

‘What’s that?’ Harry asked.

‘You’ve never been?’ Dumbledore replied with surprise. ‘It’s in Switzerland, and it’s quite spectacular. There’s dancing and shows and lots of stalls selling things. I used to go every year with Elphias.’ 

He did not, Harry noticed, ask about Elphias now. That was the way of it sometimes. Dumbledore calmly assumed that all his friends and family were already dead, relieving Harry of the burden of confirming it. 

‘You want to go now?’ Harry asked. 

‘Yes, why not?’

‘I don’t know,’ Harry mumbled. ‘I suppose we could. You’d have to lead the way though.’ 

‘With pleasure,’ Dumbledore said, extending his arm. ‘I assume you are comfortable with side-along apparition?’ 

It had never been Harry’s favourite way to travel, but he allowed Dumbledore to drag him through space with a sickening lurch and a loud, resounding crack. 

  
**

The carnival truly was spectacular. They ate rainbow-coloured popcorn that continued to pop and crackle in their stomachs and watched fantastic beasts performing extraordinary acrobatic feats. 

Glowing fairies illuminated the sky once it got dark and the whole fair turned into one great ballroom, with everyone dancing. Harry found himself swept up in the excitement, spurred on by the fire whiskey and Dumbledore’s encouragement. 

They danced with hooked arms in ever-decreasing circles until they grew dizzy and fell down on the ground, laughing and laughing. 

Dumbledore grinned down at him, silvery hair covering them like a curtain, and then leant down to kiss him, hard on the lips. 

For a second - _just one second_ \- Harry drunkenly returned the kiss, lips moist with alcohol and the last gasp of his laughter, then he sobered up sharp and jerked his head away. 

‘No, no, no, no!’ His mouth was full of Dumbledore’s hair, his body hot with the weight of him. ‘No - I can’t - you’re - please, stop!’

Dumbledore seemed confused. 

‘What is it?’ 

‘I told you!’ Harry wailed. ‘You’re like a father to me! You’re not - we’re not - like this!’

Dumbledore’s face crumbled. ‘I don’t understand. We were just ... I thought we were having fun.’ 

He glanced down at himself suddenly, as if only just remembering how old he was.

‘You seemed to be enjoying it.’ 

‘Oh - Albus!’ Harry exclaimed, his voice breaking. ‘I - I don’t mind you being - but this, this is quite a different thing. I can’t do this with you!’

He tried to recover himself. ‘I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. I was having fun with you, dancing and joking around but that’s all it was. We’re close friends. Such good, good friends. We can’t be anything else.’ 

‘It’s me who should apologise,’ Dumbledore said, pulling Harry up. ‘You did explain. I just let myself get carried away. Please forgive me.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Harry said hastily. ‘It’s over now. Let’s just go home. I’m tired.’ 

Dumbledore hesitated. ‘Together?’ He asked, in a small voice.

Harry felt a spike of anger and frustration. ‘Do I have to split the bed apart for you? Or build a wall between us? Can’t I trust you to keep your hands to yourself?!’

Dumbledore shrank away from him. ‘I just meant - I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable. I’m sorry, Harry, truly.’ 

‘It’s okay. I’m sorry too. Please, let’s just forget about it.’ 

He took Dumbledore’s hand gently.

‘I’m certain to, aren’t I?’ Dumbledore said, with a sigh. ‘By tomorrow, I’ll have forgotten how badly I’ve humiliated myself.’ 

‘You’ll have plenty of opportunity to humiliate yourself again, in the future,’ Harry promised. ‘Now hush, my dear friend.’ 


	12. Chapter 12

Christmas came and went before Dumbledore had another good day, and he was quiet and subdued, as if the knowledge of his past were weighing him down. 

‘Is something troubling you?’ Harry asked. ‘Please let me help.‘

‘It is not something you can help with,’ Dumbledore replied. He turned to Harry with large, melancholy eyes. ‘However, I fear it is something I must discuss with you while I am in my right mind.’ 

‘What is it?’ Harry asked. 

Dumbledore was quiet for a very long time,

‘I have begun to feel, he said eventually, ‘that my life has lost it’s meaning. I used to do a great deal with my time. I was helpful to many and had a great many pleasures and pastimes. Now, there is little I can do to amuse myself and I am burden to the ones I love most. It seems that I ought not to be living, in this condition. That I am lingering beyond my time.’ 

‘What are you saying?’ Harry replied. ‘That you want to die?!’ 

Dumbledore went silent once more, for a full minute, at least. 

‘I don’t want to keep living like this. If I’m not going to get better. If I’m only going to get worse, then I would much rather simply ... go.’ 

‘Go?’ Harry repeated, his temper rising. ‘Go where?!’ 

‘Ah well, that is the question.’ Dumbledore smiled sadly. ‘No one knows for sure.’ 

‘I don’t want you to go!’ Harry exclaimed. ‘I want you to stay here, with me! You think your life isn’t worth anything, but it is - to me! Can’t you just live for me, Albus?!’ 

Albus raised his head. His eyes were full of tears. 

‘Harry, I know how bad my memory has grown. I’ve been keeping track in my journals. In the last year I only remembered you three times. The rest of the time you were a complete stranger to me, one I actually tried to seduce- despite the obvious disparity in our age. You want my company and my love, but I can’t even give you that. Not now. Not anymore.’ 

‘Don’t say that!’ Harry pleaded. ‘I treasure every day with you! Every single day! We always have our evenings together and we have fun. I love you Albus! Please!’ 

‘Doesn’t it hurt you terribly to spend your days caring for someone who doesn’t love you back?’ Dumbledore whispered. ‘Someone who doesn’t even know you.’ 

Harry closed his eyes, shook his head. ‘We are always friends by the end of the day. I always feel loved by you.’ 

‘I wish I could believe that,’ Dumbledore said. ‘I just don’t think I can.’ 

Harry fell to his knees before Dumbledore, in much the same way he had on the day he invited him to come stay with him, only this time he was begging for Dumbledore’s life.

‘Please don’t! Please, please, please!’ He buried his head in the old man’s lap and began to sob. ‘You don’t know what it would do to me if you killed yourself. I can’t bear to lose you, really I can’t, Albus. I’ve lost so many people. Please, Albus! Please just live for me! Please!’ 

Dumbledore was still for a long time, then he moved his hand to Harry’s head, stroked at his curls. 

‘I would never leave you,’ he whispered, ‘not if you want me to stay.’

Harry cuddled closer. 

‘I know you’re scared, Albus. I - I promise that if things get really bad for you then we can at least talk about your options.’ 

A stillness. ‘I’m just afraid I won’t be able to. If we we wait too long ... it will be too late. I won’t be able to have that talk.’ 

’Yes, you will,’ Harry insisted. ‘You still have good days!’

Dumbledore sighed again, rubbed at his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles. ‘You never know when you’re going to have your last good day. For all I know, this may be my last.’

’No,’ Harry replied, like a child. ‘No! No! No!’ 

‘Harry - ‘

’You have your journals! You can write how you’re feeling, each day, and I can read them. Or - if you don’t want me to read your journals - you can write me letters. Put them somewhere safe and I’ll read them all once some time has passed. Surely, that makes sense?’   
  
He gazed up at Dumbledore hopefully. 

‘I suppose,’ Dumbledore murmured. ‘A little like writing a review at a hotel. Letting you know whether I enjoyed my stay.’   
  
Harry laughed. ‘I’d love that. And you would feel as though you could be honest, wouldn’t you? If you knew I wasn’t going to read it that very day.’ 

Dumbledore hesitated. ‘I would ... try to be honest. I don’t want to hurt you, though, Harry.’

’You’re hurting me now,’ Harry pointed out. ‘You have to hurt me, if it’s important.’

He shuffled up to his knees, leant his head on Dumbledore’s shoulder. ‘I love you, Albus. So much. I love having you here. Really, truly.’   
  
Dumbledore held him. ‘I love you too.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I have written. I might write more at some point (It would be nice to end on a higher note) but I really can’t make any promises.


End file.
